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“An overdose?” Momma’s eyes went wide. “That doesn’t sound like Lavender! She was always bragging about what a health nut she was.” We cleared away our trash and everyone moved to the living area to get more comfortable. “Everybody knew she was a real believer in those holistic and natural treatments,” Momma continued. “I remember last year at the contest there was a lot of drama because she was criticizing one of the other bakers for taking some prescription medicine for her back. Lavender kept saying all she needed to do was get into some yoga classes and she wouldn’t need a doctor. She’d be stress-free, just like her.”
“I was shocked when Hunt told me. In fact, when we were in her motel room, I noticed that she only had a bottle of women’s multi-vitamins in the bathroom. Not even a bottle of Tylenol.”
Momma nodded. “She stayed away from all drugs and most alcohol. I remember her saying once that her only vice was a glass of wine just before she went to bed.”
“Josie said that London Cakes had sent a bottle of wine for each contestant as a welcome gift. She placed them in the rooms along with the welcome baskets that Macy and I made.” My heart raced just thinking about the possibility that Macy could end up becoming a suspect.
“I thought the police would be leaning toward accidental overdose. Do you mean she didn’t take that drug on purpose? You think she was poisoned?” Momma asked.
“Initially, that’s what they thought since her room wasn’t ransacked, but now, Hunt believes that she got the drug either through the wine or something she ate.”
“Something she ate?” Kelly said, suddenly realizing what I had just said. “Is he saying that Macy’s pastries could have been laced with the drug?”
“He told me not to worry and I haven’t said anything to Macy. I’m just trusting that when those results come back from the Medical Examiner, it ends up being in the wine. It all makes sense, doesn’t it? I mean, she didn’t take any drugs on a regular basis. At least not that we know of. There was no pill bottle found in her room. If she had taken it herself, the bottle should have still been there, right?”
“Was there anything suspicious found in her room?” Kelly asked.
“Actually, the most suspicious thing was what wasn’t found in there. Her purse, phone and laptop were all missing. I didn’t think to look in the parking lot, but I don’t even know if her car was still there.”
“So, whoever did this stole her purse, laptop, and her car?”
I thought for a minute, envisioning the motel room in my head. “I’m not sure about the car, but her purse and laptop were definitely gone. The room wasn’t tossed like she walked in on another robbery attempt, but maybe the personal items were taken in an attempt to make it appear that way.”
Momma’s brow furrowed and I could tell she was worried.
“Momma, I know you’re worried about Martha Jean not having an alibi, but it’s gonna be okay. If we’re gonna get Hunt and Jake to stop looking at Martha Jean, we’re just gonna have to give them somewhere else to look.” I went to the desk and got a pencil and my trusty notepad which Hunt had so lovingly dubbed my Nancy Drew notebook. “The first thing we need to do is make a list of anybody that had a grudge against Lavender.”
“I hope you have a big sheet of paper,” Momma said, “because that’s gonna be a long list.”
Kelly and I settled onto the sofa. Momma grabbed the nearest fleece blanket and snuggled into the club chair.
I thought for a minute about all the people I had seen Lavender interact with in the last few days and one immediately stood out. “Momma, what do you know about Dennis Whitlow?”
“The magazine guy?” Momma asked. “He’s been covering the bake-off for the last few years and I know Lavender didn’t like him, but I was never sure why. He seems like a likeable guy to me.”
“Lavender had a run-in with him in the bakery a couple days ago.” I wrote down his name under the suspect column. “She didn’t want him covering the contest and threatened to get him fired.”
“What’s she got against him? All he does is take pictures of the winners and report on the competition,” Momma said.
“According to Sarah and Louisa, who happened to come into the shop just as Lavender was leaving, they have a fiery history. It seems that he not only writes articles for the magazine, but he also does culinary reviews. I guess the magazine is based out of the Atlanta area, and he wrote a scathing review of her catering business. The ladies heard that Lavender lost several high-profile clients over it and now she might lose her business.”
“Wow! That’s terrible! I can see why there’s friction there for sure, but do you think it’s enough for murder?” Kelly pulled one leg up underneath her. Izzy jumped up next to her with her favorite toy and laid down, making herself comfortable. Kelly gave her a rub behind the ears.
“It seems to me that it would be more likely for her to kill him instead of the other way around,” Momma reasoned.
“I think the disdain was mutual. If she had the kind of influence she claimed to have with his bosses, he might have really felt threatened.”
“Her blog did have a large, loyal following.” Momma said. “I wonder if she’d ever blasted him on there like she did me and Martha Jean?”
“Let’s see what we can find online.” Kelly opened her laptop. “We know she lived for her social media, so maybe there’s something on there that will help.”
Kelly typed in “A Twist of Lavender” and immediately the screen displayed the header featuring a headshot with Lavender’s red hair blowing in the wind and her emerald eyes staring at us, almost begging us to find who did this to her.
“The last blog post she made was last night.” Kelly took a minute to read through the short post. “She just said that the first day of competition was done and implied how confident she was that she had this in the bag.”
Momma let out a loud grunt of disapproval. “If it wasn’t for clearing Martha Jean’s name, that might be enough for me to bow out of this little investigation.” She pulled the blanket up a little tighter and frowned.
“Now, Momma. Love your enemies . . . right?”
“She goes on to say that this would be her last time to compete,” Kelly continued. “She was sorry that the competition was going to lose its most exciting contestant and she knew she would be depriving the fruitcake community of her expert talents, but there comes a time when you have to make the decisions that are the best for yourself and your future. She also says that she plans to go out with a bang.”
“Well, she certainly did that. I can only imagine some of the comments on that post,” I said.
Kelly scrolled down below to read what her followers had to say. “There are some interesting comments, but it’s hard to know who makes them if you don’t know their online name.”
“Maybe we can figure some of them out if you read a few.”
“Some of them are wishing her well,” Kelly kept scrolling. “Some of them, not so much. Like this one, ‘Good riddance’ by GeorgiaPeach.”
“That doesn’t sound like a fan.”
“Uh oh. Listen to this one. ‘Sure would be a shame if you didn’t make it to the judging tomorrow.’”
“That sounds ominous. Who posted that?”
“There’s no name. Whoever it was logged in as a guest and did it anonymously.”
“Is there any way to trace it? Momma asked.
Kelly nodded. “A lot of people think that just because you comment as a guest on someone’s blog that you can’t be identified, but it’s actually impossible to be totally anonymous. All you have to do is follow the IP address to find the computer the post came from.”
“Can you do that?” I asked hopefully.
“No, unfortunately, the best I could do is narrow it down to city and state, which, if it was posted by the killer, would more than likely be here in town. But I’m sure the police could do it without much trouble. I just don’t have access to the technology that they do—or the legal clearance to use it.”
“I’ll text Hunt and tell him about it. Are there any other comments like that?”
“Here’s one. What do you make of this? ‘I can’t believe I’m this close to you. I hope you like the surprise I left in your hotel room. Good night. Sleep tight.’” Kelly shivered all over.
“Well, that gives me the creeps just hearing you read it! Does it have the name of the commenter?”
“Baker Baker Nineteen?” Kelly shrugged.
“I think it might be Baker Baker One Nine.” I grinned at Kelly. “You know, like the old CB radio phrase, breaker, breaker one nine.”